DISCLAIMER: This story is a work of 100% FICTION and contains descriptions of explicit sexual acts between 2 consenting teenage boys. This story is based 100% off of my IMAGINATION and does NOT reflect the views of the celebrities mentioned. If this type of content offends you or if it is illegal for you to read this type of material, please don't. *** Rights to Catallus' Song V to its rightful owners

What Happened to the Green Fairies?

By Danimpa

Chapter 14

Duchy of Upper Lorraine, FranceOctober, 1397

It was all a swirl of sensations and emotions, a tide that was taking me away as he thrusted into me again, his lips latching to my neck.

My hands were gripping his hair tightly as if it were my only anchor to the world, to reality.

Not that reality really mattered, not now, but letting go of it was too frightening a prospect.

He raised his face, sweat collecting in beads on his brow as he looked at me with that unspeakable emotion in his dark, dark eyes, plunging into me with sweet, reckless abandon.

And I was close, so close...

The colours were blurring together behind my lids that were suddenly covering my eyes, my whole body became overly sensitive to the soft sheets that stuck to my bed, to his lips that were once again on my neck, his short hair that tickled my jaw, the friction and sheer pleasure of his plunging touches inside of me. I gasped out, it was all so overwhelming.

But suddenly, above his shoulder, I saw Father enter, rage clear on his face as he grabbed onto Brendon, ripping him away from me.

I reached out desperately, trying to grasp some sort of hold, but I couldn't reach him and I couldn't, I couldn't...

I sat straight upright in the unfamiliar bed that was much too broad for one person, felt around me frantically, desperate for the touch and reassurance of this boy who'd become my everything.

With a sigh I let my body collapse back onto the bed, my mind finally managing to separate dream and reality.

Reality, though, was also that the dream had left some business unfinished.

Sighing again, I reached down beneath sheets and blankets and grabbed hold of my member awkwardly, my hands unaccustumed to the concept of touching myself. I closed my eyes again, trying to regain hold of whatever imaginary or memorized situation I could think of.

I mentally grabbed hold of Brendon's sweaty face, keeping him on the screen of my closed lids as memorized lips moved against my own and my hand became his, tugging, stroking roughly, once again bringing me closer to the edge.

My back finally arched, my toes curling slightly and my heels digging into the mattress as I let out a loud groan and released my load into my own hand.

I didn't move even an inch for I don't know how long. It was clear that I wasn't going to go back to sleep and my mind became more active with each passing moment, reminding me that it hadn't been him, it had been all me, reminding me that I was alone in a way I'd never been before, I was so alone that I needed to take care of even my bodily needs on my own. And an empty feeling followed. So empty, so alone.

My eyes stung and I had to take a tight hold of myself to keep from letting go of the tears. I needed him. I needed him so much more than I could say. But he wasn't there and for all I knew he needed me even more than I did him.

I fought to shut those thoughts out of my mind, pushed myself back into an upright position before I got out of the bed, the bed that was still much too large for a single person, especially one as small-framed as I. I walked the couple of steps to the washing bowl and washed my hand quickly before moving on to get dressed.

It wasn't until I'd found a set of clothes that weren't far too big on me that I realised that I had no idea what to do now that I was up.

It was still dark outside and nobody but the servants could be expected to be up yet. I had nothing and no one to entertain myself with and absolutely no wish to sit idle.

I considered waking up Matt and hope he was in more of a creative mood than I was but I gave up quickly for two reasons. Number two being that if he was able to get the much needed sleep after our journey, I shouldn't stop him from it, number one being that I was still deeply immersed in sadness and wanted to talk to nobody but Brendon.

And since he obviously wasn't there, it would have to be me on my lonesome.

If only we'd come earlier the previous day and I could've been showed around, then I could've gone to the archery pitch and worked some of my worry and frustration out through training. Doing it without first having been offered would be considered very impolite. I was quickly getting sick of manners.

What I had been showed the previous day, though, was the estate study, a library practically, and I'd been told I could go in there freely and read as much as I in any way wanted.

So, to the study it was.

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I squinted down at the slightly yellowed pages of the book in the candlelight, reading the curving, elegant handwriting of whomever the copier had been, deeply immersed in the ancient work of Catullus.

I looked up from the book as the candle flickered when a sudden boost of air was let into the room. And I easily recognised the intruder. "Milady," I muttered, annoyedly getting to my feet to bow before sitting back into the chair and hoping she'd get the point as I started reading again, the ancient Latin words registering easily in my mind.

Catullus was somebody I could relate to in a way.

At home Father had banned all his works, deeming it unfitting and definitely something that opposed his Christendom.

And yet, the somewhat hopeless words of forbidden and dangerous feelings that I hadn't read in so long, seemed to me like old friends. Even if this one in particular was written for a woman. With Catullus it had been both.

Da mi basia mille, deinde centum,

"George, bon matin," she greeted with a pouty smile.

Why was it that girls always seemed to think that their pouting was attractive?

I'd admit that the pout and full lips worked on Brendon, but on this girl? Not so much.

"I've experienced better," I muttered back, annoyed with myself for having brought him back to the top of my head. I was frightened again, just as I'd been in the dream when my father had ripped him out of my reach. And I was lonely and definitely sad.

"You do not like our eztate?" she asked, finally speaking in English, albeit heavily accented and with several pronounciation mistakes.

"It's beautiful," I answered, holding back a sigh and instead letting out a deep breath.

"Are you triste?" she asked on.

I let out the sigh, but decided not to answer, instead staring intently at the poem I'd been reading.

Dein mille altera, dein secunda centum,

"George..." she whined, her pout even deeper now I realised as I looked up. And she was supposed to be of marital age? She reminded me strongly of a five-year-old. "What iz it zat you read?" she asked on when she realised she had my attention back.

"Catullus," I answered, looking back down at the book. "Song Five if you must know." I didn't add that I doubted she'd understand it anyway. Neither words nor meaning.

The last lines always saddened me, the clear words of how happiness should be kept secret because if something made you too happy, Fate, Nemesis, the half-Goddess of vengeance, would take it away from you. And right at that moment it also scared me. What if this was more than just a poem?

Pushing those thoughts out of my mind, I quickly, gently, broke the kiss and pushed her away, shaking my head lightly. "Jacqueline, that is not apropriate," I told her softly, looking her firmly in the eyes for a moment.

"You are my fiance, c'est tres convenable," she argued, her voice rising to that high pitch that had always bothered me about women.

"Betrothed," I muttered.

"Quoi?"

"Fiance. In English it's called betrothed," I answered, not knowing why I was suddenly pointing out her lacking language skills.

"Betrothed," she breathed, still pronouncing it poorly. Then she leaned forward again, her lips shaping an 'o' that only made me wish Brendon was there.

I managed to turn my head before she reached me and her peck was placed on my cheek. "Non," I muttered, a warning edge in my voice now.

Her eyes widened, whether at my use of French or the fact that I'd turned her down I didn't know. Then tears gathered and finally she turned around and left dramatically.

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I didn't feel like reading anymore after she'd left, decided instead that although I wasn't the slightest bit hungry I should still try to get something inside. And so I placed the book back in its place and left the study.

"Ryan."

I turned around to face Matt who'd appeared in the hallway behind me. "Brother," I returned meekly.

He sighed slightly. "Worrying isn't going to help him," he informed me. "Actually I'm rather sure he wouldn't want you to worry about him."

I took a small breath, shaking my head lightly. "I know he wouldn't, but that doesn't change the way things are.

He sent me a small smile before reaching out a hand to ruffle my hair. "Come on, little brother. Let's get some food into that skinny body of yours. I'm sure Brendon wouldn't mind getting to hold something that isn't actually just skin and bones when he sees you again."

I laughed a bit, feeling slightly better as I followed my elder brother down the hallways and into the kitchens.

He caught hold of some random person and they exchanged a few words, Matt's French sounding very strained. He'd never had the thorough education I did. Then he half-turned and sent me a small smile. "They'll have something ready for us in a moment," he stated.

I nodded, busy scanning my surroundings.

Kitchens weren't exactly places I frequented much.

Meals were always had either in the dining hall with my whole family or alone in my chambers. Well, not so alone lately, but that only gave me even more of a reason not to go to the kitchens. Why would I be there when I had the whole world in my own quarters?

I pushed those thoughts away quickly, trying hard not to think about Brendon. It hurt too much and I was too sick of worrying. If I wanted to actually be able to eat, I needed to stop.

Matt had always been to the kitchens a lot, being officially a commoner, the servants were much more at ease with him than with the rest of the family. And after Agatha had been employed he'd seemed to spend an abundance of time in our kitchens.

"Come here," Matt replied, grabbing me by the elbow to drag me with him to a table that sat off to the side of the room a bit.

I followed obediently and sat down on one of the hard, uncomfortable wooden chairs.

"So, other than being away from your boy, what's eating you?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, reading me to a scary extent.

"Jacqueline," I answered with a sigh.

"With her eyes anyway," he returned. "She seems to have taken quite a liking to you."

I nodded. "That's what's wrong," I admitted. "She found me in the study a while before we met up and started talking to me and..." I made a face. "Tried to kiss me. Twice, succeeded once."

He nodded. "I'm not really surprised. She always gave me the feeling of not being nearly as innocent as her father likes to think."

"She's not," I muttered.

A kitchen girl placed a plate with bread and cheese in front of me.

I managed a faint smile and a soft 'merci' before she gave Matt food as well. The food didn't really seem all that inviting. I really didn't feel at all hungry. Still, after playing with it for a bit, I pushed a piece of bread into my mouth.

"Ryan," Matt said softly with a light sigh. "You can only turn her down to a certain extent..." He paused, biting lightly into his own lip. "You know that these people can't in any way find out how you feel about girls. And she's an attractive one. You have to play along and make all your reasons for stopping seem moral."

I nodded, feeling slightly nauseous all of a sudden. I'd made one serious vow in my life, one. I wanted nothing more than to keep it.